“Scritcha-Scritcha”
A metal tipped umbrella,
Dragged along the ground.
The squitching wheels of trollies,
Traveling Park Street bound.
The motion of a hacksaw,
Slicing through a bar.
The action of a starter,
Turning over in a car.
Words and sounds about the world,
No silence do we keep.
Even Apneic breathing,
At night while we’re asleep.
Of all the sounds that sing to me,
The one I most savor,
Is the sound that comes,
from scissors cutting paper.
A greatly satisfying sound,
Mowing through a ream.
Scraps of paper left behind,
An origami dream.
So keep your white noise machines,
and rhythm of the sea.
Scissors cutting paper,
Is the only sound for me.
A very special thanks to EV. The devil is in the details, and in all the sounds around us.
40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam is a project in which people have joined me for 40 days and 40 nights of on-demand poetry. They have submitted the concepts, ideas, and subjects; I’ve done the rest.
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